Charon shook his head as another orphan stepped off the stage, despair evident in his eyes.
'Poor bastard.'
The flash of light that had accompanied him was so dim and lifeless, he must have earned an ability near worthless. With the way the war had been going, he would be thrown on the front lines and expected to either adapt or die.
The odds leaned towards the latter.
Hushed whispers and conversations filled the cramped corridor, each orphan hoping to find some solace before their fates, too, were sealed. It filled the air with a strangely muted cacophony of voices, too vague to identify what was being said but still noticeable all the same.
The lieutenant assigned to their group shook the kid's hand, offering him a few empty words of congratulations, before ushering the next in line up the stairs.
Choosing to take a risk, Charon directed a question at the lieutenant, hoping to find some answers.
"Do you know the odds of getting an element good enough for the officer corps?"
With a stiff turn, the military man faced him and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"The inductees are to remain silent and respectful to the gods! If you continue to make your presence known, you shall be restrained and punished accordingly!"
Finishing, the lieutenant turned back to await the returning orphan.
Charon cocked an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk at the energetic response.
'You'd think I had blasphemed against the gods, not asked a simple question. He takes his job too seriously.'
When Charon had first heard that his orphanage had been selected to join the military and receive their magic elements, he had been excited.
Everyone dreamed of gaining powers beyond their imaginations, of summoning walls of fire or spears of light. Orphans were no different, Charon among them.
If anything, he was a larger dreamer than most, stolen books having filled his head with stories of heroes facing terrifying foes, conquering distant lands, and bringing home treasures greater than their wildest dreams.
Now, only a few hours later, he prayed to all ten gods that he would be exempt from the order.
That was due to the debrief they were all given before arriving at the ceremony hall, where the lieutenant explained in excruciating detail that the gods tended to award weak powers.
Those same powers would determine their future in the military, ranging from becoming an officer to being a simple grunt.
A bad set of abilities meant the military was little more than a death sentence.
The only hope he had was for pity from the deities, to be given a powerful element. If that happened, he would be made an officer, or better.
He would lead men in battle, be given respect, and have access to the wide resources available to the Human Empire.
He could become something more than just another street rat.
A dim glow suddenly began to emanate from the stage, followed by the lieutenant sighing.
"Another kid sent to an early grave."
The poor sod who had just earned his element blankly turned around and walked back towards them, his eyes hollow and devoid of the hope he had shown just minutes ago.
Charon exhaled slowly, trying to harden his resolve as destiny inched closer.
'It will be okay. I may not be very strong, but I am smarter than most of these kids. Surely, I have to warrant a decent element, right?'
He breathed in deeply, hoping for fresh air to calm his nerves, but all the tunnel provided was musky fumes tinged with the sweat of dozens crammed into a small space.
Unwilling to relent, his eyes darted from left to right as he tried to spot some kind of exit.
Only tall walls of sheet metal flanked him. Dimly lit fluorescent bulbs lined the ceiling and floor, a guide leading only to the stage, and back down the tunnel they currently stood in.
He thought back on the sixteen years of his life, hoping to remember something that could help.
Nothing came to him.
'I wonder if I could make a run for it? Try and get past the lieutenant and figure out what's actually on the stage. Maybe there are more exits?'
If the ceremony had been held in an alley, maybe he could use his lanky frame to squeeze through a corridor or leap a short wall, but there wasn't anything like that here.
It was just the lieutenant, the other orphans, and a few soldiers spread throughout their ranks to keep things orderly.
A glow came from the stage, a light intense enough to break him from his thoughts. Charon audibly gasped.
'What?'
Even the lieutenant seemed surprised, his eyes wide.
Unlike what had usually occurred, the officer marched up the steps and pointed to the right.
The dazed youth just nodded and walked away.
Charon, like everyone else, could hardly believe what he had just seen.
'An orphan actually received a good element?'
Without noticing, a smile had spread across his face. He combed his dark hair back with his hand and let out a short chuckle.
'Maybe all hope isn't lost! If the gods looked favorably upon one of us, why wouldn't they do the same for me?'
Everyone around him seemed to be thinking something similar. Multiple laughs, and even a few half-hearted cheers, broke out.
The two kids in front of Charon seemed to be the most excited out of anyone, having clearly surrendered themselves to the inevitable until another possibility was revealed.
'Maybe I won't die in that forsaken city?'
The thought was like a bite of food after days of starvation, limiting Charon's fears and reinvigorating his muscles.
When the next was sent up the steps, Charon took a long, purposeful step forward, determined to stand strong in the face of his terrors.
He had a purpose here, whatever he received today would impact his future, the same future as everyone else in the line.
To fight in the city of Creed.
It was the reason the orphans were being drafted. Too many men had died in the battle already, and more were needed to fill the gaps. Usually, that meant asking for aid from other sectors, but the government had decided that orphans could be sent out faster.
Despite the cruel situation, they had at least decided to grant them elements before being sent to their deaths, an honor usually reserved for the upper classes.
Granting magic abilities wasn't cheap, after all, and required the participation of all ten gods.
With a nod from the lieutenant, Charon forced his stiff legs to walk up the metal steps, arriving on the edge of a circular stage.
Now that he was looking down on it, he saw thousands of intricate carvings covering almost every inch of the platform. It was split into ten segments, with each having a strangely unique pattern.
If not for the circumstances, he may have found it beautiful.
'It kind of reminds me of those tapestries the Mistress likes to paint. What did she call the symbols? Runes, I think? I guess these are also runes.'
Glancing up with trepidation, he noted ten robed figures standing around the center, each wearing a different color.
Nine of them had their faces revealed, while the tenth did not, his hood filled with an inky pool of darkness.
'What kind of ritual is this? Am I being offered to a cult? This better not be a sacrifice, I'll go down kicking and screaming if it is!'
He had never seen the ceremony firsthand, only the flashes entering the corridor behind him.
Without a word, the closest figure pointed to the center of the stage, his intent clear.
Charon complied, not wanting to upset any of the priests before their gods judged him.
'Every little bit of favor can't hurt. It's not like things can get much worse. I wonder if I converted to the God of Life, he would offer me mercy?'
The moment he had the thought, one of the robed figures spoke.
"My god has heard your pleas, and he wishes for you to know that although he bears you no ill will, your destiny has already been seen. Life will not intervene."
The priest who had addressed him gave him a slight smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
The others gave only a strange glance at the man before turning back to Charon, who was dumbfounded at actually getting a response.
"Your god spoke to you, to tell me? They actually listened?"
The priest nodded slightly.
"The gods always listen, Charon, even if they do not always deign to respond. The will of the gods is beyond us all, you would do well to remember that. Now speak no more, our common tongue dilutes the sanctity of this space."
Opening his mouth to respond despite the warning, the withering gaze all ten priests gave him cut any comment short.
'So the one time the gods care enough to respond, they tell me no. Just my friggin' luck.'
He frowned deeply as he realized how little they must care to damn him to this kind of life, and do so knowingly.
Without any warning, the ten priests splayed their arms out and began to pray, their voices barely more than a whisper.
The words they spoke were alien and hard to listen to, let alone understand. With every line, he felt his body grow weaker, then stronger, as if it were responding to the call of the invocation.
He began to sway, his vision growing dimmer and dimmer until all he saw was darkness, before that too seemed to vanish.
The last thing that Charon saw was a sudden flash of light, followed by a few sentences of words.
[A god has selected you for a trial.]
[Prepare yourself.]